Things we have shared
by planet p
Summary: AU; Miss Parker has a disturbing dream.


**Things we have shared** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

* * *

_2009_

She could no longer stand the screaming, the crunching, snapping of bone, and tearing, ripping of skin. Though, strangely, she'd been imbued with an astonishing calm, though, beneath her chest, her heart beat triple. Grey turned to red, and the screaming died. Relatively, it hadn't lasted long at all, though the breaking, shifting, splitting sound lasted far longer.

When she woke, she was hit with a wall of sickness so heavy that she couldn't sit. She could hardly breathe, and her heart was racing, racing away toward darkness, toward forgetfulness. She thought, then, that she'd just forget the dream, as she did so many, many nightmares, left with only the terrible feelings, and none of the explanation, which mirrored her life and work well enough to sometimes spark a ray of humour within her, but there'd been nothing amusing about the dream, just pain, and a horrible wrongness, and, underneath that, sadness.

She was wrong, she discovered, hours later. Though she'd returned to sleep, the dream had stayed with her, like a particularly poignant scene of a film or stage play. When she looked at her first coffee of the morning, she felt ill. She left the coffee and drove to work. She'd have one there, from one of the machines, and, hopefully, the morbid atmosphere of the place would suck whatever it was that she found so particularly horrible and hateful from the dream away, dazzled, into its endless, spaceless void, and she'd go back to hating where she worked, and most of those who worked there also, and forget about the dream entirely.

It was a rotten day, she noted, as she navigated through the morning traffic, and finally heard gravel crunching under tyres, and found her regular parking space in the Center's front most parking lot.

She checked in at the front desk, and made her way to SL-5 in the elevator, in mind of making herself a coffee in Heathrow Lounge in Tech Space. Her coffee made, she settled into one of the sofas to slowly sip her hot drink as it cooled, a little annoyed that she was one of the first three people into Tech Space given that she didn't actually work there and that she hadn't gotten up earlier than she usually did, and that Broots wasn't in yet, but still reasonably pleased that she been able to have her pick of which mug she'd take her coffee in, and then, somehow, in the middle of her wonderings, it hit her, who the dream had been about, and why she'd had it. Lyle, her twin brother, if she was to believe the Center's lies. She suddenly didn't feel so much like coffee after all, now that she knew that the girl – it had been a girl, she decided – in her dream was dead, and who'd killed her.

She'd slept far too badly to go without her morning caffeine, so she resigned to finishing her coffee and to waiting for Broots to arrive. The strangeness that she'd felt earlier upon entering the large, seemingly empty space evaporated. When he did, she'd have him run a search for Missing Persons – she had a feeling that the girl hadn't been much younger or older than her brother when she'd died.

* * *

Broots was later than usual into work, and when he finally made it into Tech Space and spotted Miss Parker waiting, he mentally scolded himself for the fifteenth time, and frowned at Miss Parker's choice of mug.

"I'm sorry," she said, rising from her seat on the sofa, "is this your mug?"

Broots couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, but responded by choosing himself another mug and pouring himself a filtered coffee from the coffee pot, which was sitting on a portable hotplate.

"If you're up for it, I've a job for you," she said, from close behind him.

He turned and refrained from stepping backward sharply at their closeness – she really was standing very close – and fixed a frown to his face.

"If you've no other pressing matters, I'm sure it won't harm Jarod's cause." She paused, considering something for a moment. "It's important," she finally added, in a low, serious voice.

Broots continued to watch her face, uncertain of the unusually collected tone of her voice, devoid of its usual aggravation and threat.

Miss Parker grinned and turned away in a slow half swagger. "When you can," she called after her, suddenly amused, and placed her mug down in the sink and walked out of the lounge.

* * *

When she'd left Tech Space, Miss Parker decided to drop by Sydney's office. Without bothering to knock, she opened the door and slipped inside the office, closing the door quietly after herself. Sydney was reading something at his desk, though she couldn't tell what. "What's on your mind?" she asked, and Sydney glanced up, startled for a moment.

Miss Parker stepped away from the door and sighed. "Long story cut short, I've a couple of questions regarding your very favourite topic."

"Jarod?" Sydney enquired, frown evident in his voice.

Miss Parker grinned, widening her eyes for dramatic effect. "Twins!"

Sydney nodded.

Miss Parker stopped in front of his desk and sat down in the chair that was there, and scooted the chair forward, closer to the desk. "Just a few questions, doctor," she assured him, with sparkly eyes.

Sydney closed the file he'd been reading and fixed his attention on her face.

"Was that Cox's?" she asked suddenly, interest colouring her voice.

"I'm afraid not," Sydney replied.

Miss Parker sighed, disappointed. "Twenty quick questions, then!" she joked and sighed again. "Every story begins with a confession," she admitted, to her own unasked question, and frowned, contemplating her confession. "Bad dream," she finally blurted, going for the condensed version, rather than the drawn out, dramatic version. She nodded to herself, eyes on the table, and elaborated. She'd not been in the dream, merely an observer to it. There'd been a girl, 13, 14 years old. She hadn't seen Lyle, or Bobby, in the dream specifically, though she'd felt that he was a significant part of it. She was fairly certain the girl was no longer alive; that was the long and short. Steering to the left, it had scared the shit out of her! Questions or comments?

Sydney nodded, but did not speak, and, a moment later, crossed his arms, his expression clouded over in thought.

Miss Parker leant back in her chair, and felt as though she were young again, waiting for a doctor's appointment that she didn't even want to go to.

Sydney's telephone rang. He uncrossed his arms to answer it. "This is Sydney. Two minutes."

Miss Parker glanced away from the section of the wall behind Sydney which she'd been contemplating.

"I have to go," Sydney told her, and stood up and left his desk. He paused at the door, but didn't turn.

"I'll be on my best behaviour," Miss Parker assured him, grinning, and swivelling in the chair to offer him her most ardent, reassuring smile. "Promise."

Sydney frowned at the floor, considering this, and then nodded shortly and pulled the door closed after himself.

Miss Parker grinned and leapt up out of her chair, leaning over Sydney's desk to read the name on the file. _FULTON, C._, the file directory read. Miss Parker's grin widened and she sidled around the desk and sat down in Sydney's chair, contemplating whether she ought to take a peek or not.

She slouched and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Of course, it wouldn't be right. She sighed, pushing herself, puppet-like, to her feet, and snatching up the file, and walking over to the filing cabinet to return it to its cosy, little snug-as-a-bug home. Then she peered down into the array of names, and seeing that she'd have to try the draw underneath for the section on names beginning with _p_.

To her immense annoyance and disappointment, there was not a single file on either Lyle, Mr. Parker, or even herself. She slid the drawer shut, and decided to check the top drawer, just for thoroughness' sake, and her eyes landed on the file labelled _BOWMAN, R_, and, in her surprise, she didn't even smile. Jackpot!

She removed the file from the filing cabinet and walked back over to Sydney's desk and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

It was a compilation of everything Jarod had ever been able to uncover on Bobby. She stared down at the name of Bobby's doctor with ill confusion. _Dr. Edward Hooper_, the documents read.


End file.
